


The Box

by stepmnstr



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Threesome, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-12
Updated: 2008-02-12
Packaged: 2018-10-01 02:15:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10178408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stepmnstr/pseuds/stepmnstr
Summary: A follow up to 'Fishnets and Satin Gloves' in which eyebrows amy be rasied and questions are not answered. Warnings for school age cross dressing. Again pairing is NOT revealed tho clues may be found





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

The Box had remained hidden in his trunk under his father’s cloak. It probably wasn’t the safest place considering Ron liked to borrow the cloak frequently asking for permission after the fact. But so far it had been safe.

 

It somehow made bad days a little easier knowing that there in The Box were his gloves and high heels. His. The stockings weren’t in the box; they were on his legs. There was no Quidditch practice today so he felt safe in wearing them. Of course the time it took to get them on and make sure they were straight and admire the effect had made him late for breakfast but that was nothing unusual. He wasn’t what anyone would consider a morning person. 

Wandering the hallways of Hogwarts making his way through his schedule he found himself wondering again who had sent him such lovely things and how had anyone known he would even like such things. He certainly hadn’t told anyone and wasn’t about to either. This was his. All his. Except perhaps for his mysterious benefactor. Which brought his thoughts back their starting place: Who had sent The Box? Why? And there was that business with the mysterious appearing and disappearing chair and mirror.

“Harry! Harry!” 

The voice that broke into his circular thoughts was familiar and definitely not the person who sent The Box. No way. Wrenching his thoughts back to the here and now he answered Dean’s shout with a wave.

“ We’re moving our end of week the party from our dorm to the Room of Requirement. No-one has a date … Ron has Hermione and all but she said something about a study group with some Ravenclaws…so it’s us guys and coupla Hufflepuff that Neville knows and some Ravenclaws to argue Quidditch with Ron… “

Another Friday night of bad jokes, common room gossip about who was shagging who and who wanted to, smuggled butterbeer and keeping secrets. Though keeping secrets wouldn’t be on the official program. He really didn’t want to be there in that crowd. He wanted to spend some time with The Box and relax and maybe see if he could find some clues to who had sent it to him. He really really wanted to know the answer to that one. As he listened to Dean rambling on, Harry’s first thought was that the seventh year dorm would be empty. He quickly realised that with members of other houses there he had the perfect excuse to leave early. Everyone knew that he didn’t like crowds. All he had to do was show up briefly then disappear and no-one would question his disappearance.

 

The party was in full swing as he slipped out. Quidditch in one corner and girls everywhere else. Not that he didn’t like girls. They made great friends but after the disasters with Cho and Parvati and a couple of dates with other girls he had to admit to himself at least that the closest he was ever going to get to a girl was his friendship with Hermione. Ginny seemed to have figured that out on her own fairly early on and had become the serial dater of her year.

Making his way back the for once deserted seventh year dorm he found himself drifting off in the memories of how cool and soft the gloves felt against his skin, the soft bite as the stockings closed around his thighs and how his balance was altered by the those…

“ Mr. Potter.”

Damn! He really hadn’t been paying enough attention to where he was going. And this floor was cold even through his robes.

“Sir,” he said as he tried to manage the dual acts of getting up off the floor and keeping his secret under his robes. The professor in front of him would surely never keep to himself that fact that he was the Boy-Who-Lived-In-Stockings. Even if those stockings were green.

“Might I inquire what exactly was so fascinating that you walked right into me?” 

Taking a steadying breath and trying his best to keep an innocent face he replied, “Sorry, professor. I was just thinking.” He continued his efforts to keep both his thoughts and his ankles hidden; praying that the professor would just move so he could get to the safety of his bed behind those lovely thick curtains he continues to apologise for his abstraction.

“Very well, Mr. Potter, perhaps in the future you could endeavour to do your thinking during your lessons. Ten points from Gryffendor.”

As the professor went along his way in a trademark swirl of robes, harry heaved a sight of relief and thanked Merlin and anyone else who was listening that Professor Snape hadn’t noticed the green fishnet around his ankles. He hoped.

 

Meanwhile in another part of the castle sat another professor waiting for two people: his invited guest and the recipient of a gift.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Oh, Merlin, there was another box waiting for him. He threw off his robes and kicked off his trainers. The sole advantage to wearing Dudley’s cast-offs was how very easy it was to get out of them. A scan of the room proved that it really was deserted but just to be on the safe side he made a quick check of the bathroom and showers. Yes! He was alone. That little bit of reconnaissance was all the reassurance his inner Slytherin was going to get. His outer Gryffendor was already grabbing for the prize. After a perfunctory check for unpleasantness - nope, no charms no hexes – gleefully he tore off the top of the box. He really really hoped that whatever was in this box was a nice as the stockings and gloves had been.

Nestled in the layers of tissue paper was… Oh no! Not red! He gingerly lifted the first of the items out of the box. A very skimpy looking top with two lace straps for his shoulders and loads more lace around the deep vee-neck and the bottom edge. The next thing out of the box was a pair of shorts? These shorts seemed to have less material than his y-fronts but ooh more of that lace. The final thing in the box was a matching ribbon.

He held the top against his tee shirt and looked at his reflection in the mirror that had appeared just as silently and mysteriously as it had before. Well, it would probably fit but red? Red was for Quidditch robes and draperies and bedspreads. As a matter of fact… he laying the top and shorts down on Ron’s bed he realised that they were exactly the same shade of red. Ugh. Whoever was sending these boxes didn’t know him as well as had thought they did.

With a quick grin and a muttered charm he now had a beautiful outfit in bruise blue to try on!

Off came the hand-me-downs. With a small sigh of regret he removed the stockings. He really did like them but he wanted to see this outfit just the way it was sent. These gifts were special and he didn’t want to mix them up. 

The top was so cool and silky against his skin. The material seemed to cling to him and flow around him at the same time. The lace went down almost to kiss his navel and how white it made his skin look. The patterns in the lace played hide and seek with his nipples. The sensation was itchy and somehow tingly at the same time. Now time for the shorts. And, Merlin, were they short and snug. The lace edges were teasing the top of his thighs. So tight and so cool and so getting tighter by the second. How could something so cool make him feel so very very warm? He caught his reflection in the mirror: wide eyed, flushed, and sweating slightly. Licking his lips he realised that he liked what he saw. Muscles and planes and edges outlined and defined by the very softness of his outfit. This was not your everyday hero look but damn... He liked it. A shame, really, that there wasn’t anyone he could share it with. If he knew who was sending him these boxes but then he might not even like whoever that was. 

Falling back onto the bed he let himself relax and explore the lovely feelings that were exploding through him and his hand dropped to the damp spot in his shorts. He didn’t notice when the mirror disappeared again.

And in another part of the castle one man turned to the other as a mirror faded to black and said, “ I do believe you owe me a galleon.”


End file.
